


Things You Were Supposed to Do

by carryonmyblueeyedangel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Booboos, Darkness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Overdose, Seriously I'm sorry, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryonmyblueeyedangel/pseuds/carryonmyblueeyedangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles cannot cope with the darkness any longer and has no one to help him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Were Supposed to Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancing_with_Devils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_with_Devils/gifts).



> HI! Please disregard the blatant bullshit that is this fic >///

And after a long day, Stiles finally got home. He closed his window, not bothering to lock it because Sourwolf wasn't around anymore anyway and the other wolves didn't bother. Everyone had been down since Derek left, since everything happened.  
  
Allison got meds, and her hallucinations stopped.  
  
Scott's nightmares settled down a week or so ago  
.  
Stiles lied and said his suicidal thoughts had gone away. He put on that pretty fake smile, the one that made him look like Stiles again, at least enough so Allison and Isaac wouldn't ask, and ate his curly fries. He'd never fool Lydia, but she was so caught up with her own issues at that moment, that she'd forgot she noticed.  
  
Scott didn't count, then. Not because he was a bad friend, even if he was sometimes, but because he'd just suffered through his own darkness and Stiles couldn't let him deal with that, it wasn't fair. So for Scott, Stiles put on the biggest smile and stuffed his face and acted as happy as he possibly could, because of all people, Scott didn't need to know.  
  
But they didn't stop. He still had them everyday. Not just the thoughts, but images, and flashbacks.   
  
He watched his mother, father, best friends, and himself die more than once a day. He tried really hard not to count.  
  
He laid in his bed, the note he'd written and rewritten counteless times clenched in his hands. The sleeping meds on his bedside table eyed him, called to him, tantalised him, until he finally picked them up, and flicked off the cap. He emptied three or four into his hand, looked at the blue and white capsules, then to the window, and swallowed them dry.   
  
He waited just a little while for those to start making him drowsy before he popped a few more.   
  
After the sixth pill, he was too out of it to hear his window open, but he did hear a fuzzy voice. "Drop that bottle, Stiles."  
  
"D-der? S'that you? Man these pills... they make you see stuff?" his voice was slurred as he lifted the bottle and tried to read, but everything was fuzzy.   
  
"You're not seeing things...Stiles, Stiles, Stiles!" He'd zoned out while Derek spoke to him, and now the wolf was clutching his shoulders and shaking him.  
  
He tried to focus on the sourwolf's face, but that was impossible at the moment. It took him a while to realize he was being carried, and Derek set him on the floor next to the toilet, trying his best to coax him to puke.  
  
Stiles swatted him away and mumbled, his stomach heaving and emptying into the toilet.   
  
He slumped against Derk who sill wore a panicked expression but was slightly relieved now. He felt a shaking hand drag a warm towel over his mouth and chin, cleaning him up, and then a hand stroke his head. Blackness crept in, and he opted to feed into it, slipping from conciousness.  
  
When he woke up, his head hurt. It was dark oustide, which confused him, but he was still in his bed, and not in the hospital, so that was good. He obviously wasn't dead... was he? He rubbed his eyes and looked around, catching sight of Derek. "Sourwolf?" he asked, "What're you doin' here? What's it... four am?"  
  
"It's ten, Stiles. You've been asleep for twenty six hours."  
  
"Twenty six hours!? What the hell happened?!" he all but shouted, his head throbbing again and causing him to drop to the pillows with a huff.  
  
Derek stood, an irritated expression on his face, and picked up the suicide note he'd crumbled. "I found you with this," he shook it in Stiles' face, "and your bottle of sleeping pills. Didn't look like you had too many, but you threw up anyway. What the hell Stiles?! How could you be so stupid?!" He growled, running a hand through his hair.  
  
"You know what, Derek? Shut the hell up. You don't know _anything_. You're the one who's been MIA for _months_. So don't go giving me lectures on _what I was thinking_ , because you're _not_ one to talk. Hypocrite." Hard amber eyes glared at Derek and recieved an icy glare in return.   
  
"I didn't try to kill myself Stiles. I promised I'd be back." He said, glare lessening and saddened expression forming. "I came back, didn't I?"  
  
"We dealt with our darkness, Derek. Allison had Scott and Isaac, and Scott had them, too, and I... I didn't have anyone, Derek. You were supposed to be there for all of us, but _especially_ the left behind ones. Especially _me_ , Derek."  
  
The former Hale-pack alpha just stared at Stiles, his expression something between shocked, mortified, and defeated. "I..." He didn't know, he couldn't have been expected to, and Stiles knew that, be he was still so angry that Derek had left. So what if the wolf couldn't... didn't know his feelings, didn't know how he relied more on Derek than anyone to keep him going. He kept everyone else going with his smile and Derek kept his smile going. Derek still shouldn't have left. They were pack, right? Stiles was pack... _right?_  
  
"Aren't we supposed to be pack Derek? You're always talking about pack first, but you abandonned your pack. Scott isn't my alpha, and even when you aren't an alpha, you're our alpha. You were _my_ alpha, Derek."

  
"You're... You're not a wolf, Stiles." was all Derek could muster, closing his eyes for a moment and dropping his head down to the teen's shoulder. "I'm sorry." the words were muffled by the long sleeved t-shirt Derek had put on Stiles when he put him into bed.

  
Stiles looked down at him, awkwardly patting the back of his head before settling into a comfortable rhythm, sliding his hands through Derek's hair. "It's fine... You just can't.. judge me for not being able to cope when I didn't have anyone to help me. Even when you left, you had Cora. I had no one at all, and I wanted you there."

  
Shit, he'd said too much. He wasn't supposed to say that he'd wanted Derek there.

  
 _Out with it now_ , he thought, _nothing to lose._

  
"I wanted you to be the one there comforting me and telling me I would be okay, that the thoughts were just that and that the images weren't real. I wanted you to be the light to bring me from my dark and you were nothing but gone." Stiles leaned back to look at Derek, wanting to see his expression. "I love you, dammit." he cursed barely audible, but he knew wolf ears could hear it from a mile away. He hid his face in the pillow.

  
"You... what?" Derek sat up, catching Stiles' gaze for a second before fully realizing what it was he'd said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to comfort you, to help you, to... guide you from the dark. You didn't pick a very bright light, Stiles." he had the urge to smile, but kept it down. "I love you too, dammit." he did smile a little this time, nudging Stiles' head up with his nose. "Come on, Stilinski, I know you're blushing under there."

  
"Am not."

  
"Lies."

  
"Who're you to talk? Bet you're beet red."

  
"You won't know til you sit up."

  
"Don't wanna."

  
"I love you, Stiles."

  
"Fuck you."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay honestly that was absurdly cute and I regret nothing./


End file.
